


The Foxtrot

by MagalaBee



Series: Lorenz/Marianne Week 2020 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), its time for the white heron ball...., loremari, loremari week, loremari week 2020, lorenz/marianne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24145021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagalaBee/pseuds/MagalaBee
Summary: Marianne knew she never should have come to the ball that night. She was not a girl meant for fairytales or princes...LoreMari Week Day 3: Ball/Fairytale
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund & Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Marianne von Edmund/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester
Series: Lorenz/Marianne Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739473
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	The Foxtrot

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are with day 3! I want to thank everyone who has read and left encouraging comments on my fics thus far for the week. You guys are so sweet, and your comments really do help me keep writing, it motivates me!
> 
> So this piece is set during those awkward teenage days as students, I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the previous two. If you do, please leave some Kudos and Comments!

Balls were a part of almost every childhood fairytale Marianne had heard when she was little. Her mother used to murmur stories of peasant girls with fairy godmothers who danced with fine lords and princes and found true love. The stories involved twinkling lights, lilting music, and romantic waltzes…

Marianne did not feel like she was in a fairytale. 

The White Heron Ball had been the talk of Garreg Mach the whole month. All of the students had been abuzz, brushing up on their dance steps and nervously wondering who would ask them to dance. For whatever reason, Marianne had been put up to compete in the White Heron Cup last week and she had stumbled, falling right on her face. She’d lost and embarrassed herself and it had taken all she had just to be here tonight.

The lanterns and candles all felt too bright. The decorations cloying in their festivities. The formal clothes that the Margrave had sent for her to wear tonight was a size too tight. The bodice of her pale blue dress made it hard to breathe, and while the skirts fell in a flattering way from her hips, the fabric of the petticoats was too long and the stiff trim around the neckline itched unbearably.

Marianne had been hiding by the corners of the reception hall for an hour, waiting until it was socially appropriate for her to slip out the backdoor. The only thing she wanted to do tonight was try to make a wish at the Goddess Tower. 

It might not work, bringing a male animal with her, but it was all that Marianne had. Her only hope of having her darkest prayer answered--

As Marianne wrung her hands together, staring at the place her dress skirts spilled onto the floor, another pair of shoes entered her line of vision. Two dark, polished formal boots which were followed by a familiar voice.

“M-Marianne, may I just say how lovely you look tonight? Like a vision of winter starlight--” Lorenz said after clearing his throat. 

Twice now, Lorenz had tried to compliment something about her and Marianne had snapped at him, letting her anxiety overwhelm her and blurting out rude rejections before she fled from him. It made her feel a pang of guilt now because no matter how horrible she was, he kept trying to be nice to her. Marianne didn’t understand why.

He didn’t know what she really was, of course. Lorenz didn’t know that she was not only commonborn, but cursed. Her very existence should have been an insult to someone like him. If only he knew…

Marianne gulped before she looked up at him. He was dressed in a fine brocaded suit with bright buttons and corded trim, which both made him look older and made him look like a kid playing pretend at a life he dreamed of. He wanted to be a refined, respected lord someday. But maybe he should have toned it down a bit amongst his peers… Marianne could see a few other students in the corner of her eyes who looked to be stifling laughter as they glanced at Lorenz. 

Before she could think of a response to his praise of her outfit for the night, he continued on, his cheeks looking a bit flushed and his thoughts a bit hurried. Was it his cravat? Has he tied it too tight?

“Miss von Edmund, it would do me the greatest honor if you would grace me with a dance tonight. I believe a foxtrot will be starting next and if your dance card isn’t full, I would very much like to claim the spot.”

Marianne blinked. Had he rehearsed all that? Lorenz was staring at her, looking hopeful and almost afraid. Probably worried that she might say no. Given the way other people were looking at him, Marianne had a feeling that maybe no one else had accepted Lorenz’s offer to dance.

That must be why he was asking her… because he could feel better about himself for a song while she struggled to keep up.

Marianne’s shoulders sagged forward and she sighed. Her adoptive father had been adamant that she actually participate in the dance. He’d written to tell her he expected her to try, if nothing else. And Marianne felt like she owed Lorenz after she had been so rude to him in the past. It wasn’t his fault that she was such an awkward, anxious disaster. 

“O-Okay,” she mumbled, her voice nearly being swallowed up by the sound of the music.

Lorenz seemed surprised, he looked at her as if he hadn’t heard her properly. “Yes? You will?” he asked, just in case he was imagining it.

Marianne nodded, rubbing one hand up and down her forearm nervously. “I’m… I’m not a good dancer, but…. If you really w-want to--”

“I do!” he blurted, lifting one of her hands up between his own, holding it with gratitude. His eyes seemed to shine in the candlelight, eagerness taking over him. “Marianne, it would truly be a delight.”

Because the universe always wanted to watch her fail, the waltz that other students had been dancing to ended, the dancers clapping briefly in respect to the band. Some of the dancers shuffled away from the center of the hall while others giggled as they brought one another out to dance. Lorenz grinned excitedly and began walking towards the dancefloor, inadvertently pulling Marianne along with him.

“I’m a very practiced dancer,” he assured her. “Just allow me to lead and I will take you on a journey of elegance.”

Marianne felt a nervous clawing in her gut. She had a horrible feeling that she was going to mess this up for them both somehow. She opened her mouth to tell him that actually, she couldn’t dance, but before Marianne could even make a sound, Lorenz had placed one hand at the middle of her waist and the other held hers out. He was looking down at her with shining eyes and pink cheeks, looking so hopeful and happy--

She whimpered under her breath as she put a hand on his shoulder, but luckily the sound was swallowed by the music as the band began a new song.

“Thank you,” Lorenz quickly said. “It really is a pleasure to dance with you.”

Marianne said nothing, her shoulders tense and her feet feeling clumsy. She could see Lorenz counting the beginning beats of the song in his head for a moment, and then he stepped forward. Marianne looked down at their feet and stumbled to follow his motions. She didn’t really know how to dance well, it was something that the Margrave had tried to teach her after he brought her to his estate, but it wasn’t a skill that Marianne took naturally to.

Lorenz, though, was polished and smooth. He slid his feet across the floor with ease, knowing exactly where to take them. His steps seemed effortless, but Marianne knew that she was making this harder on him. She lagged behind, fumbling to avoid stomping on him or falling over. Every step Lorenz took, Marianne was half a second behind him, her toes turned inward and stilted.

“Ah… Marianne?” Lorenz spoke, about halfway through the song, drawing her attention back up. When she looked at him, he smiled again, seemingly delighted just to have her attention. “There you are,” he chuckled. “No need to be so modest. It’s easier to dance if you look at your partner, I find.”

Marianne wasn’t sure she agreed with that. She couldn’t see her own feet, nonetheless his, when she was craning her neck up to meet his eyes. “I… I don’t know the s-steps--”

“Fret not, it’s only a simple foxtrot,” he insisted. “This dance is easy!”

“But I--”

“--And a good dance is all in the leadership,” Lorenz kept talking, tugging her to follow his movements. The more he pulled and the longer she looked up at his face, the more unsure Marianne began to feel. Her feet were tripping all over themselves. “Just follow my cues and we shall be fl--Ouch!”

Marianne froze, one of her heels having crunched down on Lorenz’s toe. He grimaced and winced, his usually controlled face contorting in a moment of pain.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Marianne blurted and tried to back up. But as she moved her foot, she caught her too-long dress skirts on her own shoe and in a mere second she went crashing down. Her shoulder slammed into the lacquered wood floor and Marianne felt a well of dread and embarrassment overflowing. This was just like her foolish attempt at the White Heron Cup. Why had Lorenz asked her to dance in the first place?

She never should have come here. She ruined everything, and this was only proof of that.

“Marianne, are you alright?” Lorenz was kneeling by her side, his hands hovering by her arms as if he wanted to help her up but wasn’t sure if he should actually touch her.

Better that he didn’t. Her cursed luck might rub off on him.

“I’m f-fine,” Marianne said frantically as she first sat up, then desperately gathered her skirts to stand. She couldn’t look Lorenz in the eye, her whole face heating up in shame. Other students who had been dancing close to them had all stopped, forming a small circle around the two and beginning to whisper to each other.

Probably about her. They were wondering why Lorenz bothered dancing with her. Why she was even here. No wonder she had failed so badly at the dance competition, she was clearly not meant to be here.

“Here, let me help you,” Lorenz offered his hand, trying so hard to be nice to her despite how embarrassing she was.

“No--” Marianne blurted with tears stinging behind her eyes. She stumbled as she moved away from him. “Don’t touch me! I… I can’t do this--”

And with only half her balance restored and an aching arm, Marianne ran from the scene of her own shame. As she hurried away from him, away from the reception hall, her ankle twisted and she felt one of her shoes fall from her foot. Immediately, the tears that she had barely held in began to fall and so she kept running. She couldn’t turn back for a stupid dancing shoe. Then everyone would see her crying, and she couldn’t bear that on top of the humiliation she already felt.

“Marianne! Marianne, wait--!” Lorenz called, trying to follow her, but Marianne left him behind her as she ran into the cold winter air, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She needed to find a bird or a rabbit or something. She had a desperate plea to make with what remained of the night.


End file.
